Sakura Winds
by JeNya
Summary: Any character, any pairing. This is my one shot, fluff and drabble collection of Yami no Matsuei. Each chapter is a story and will be rated within, so far, nothing is higher than T. Most likely, this will never be complete, but will keep growing!
1. Protector

Sakura Winds: Protector

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Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko; I only borrow her characters to play with them

Author's Note on Sakura Winds: Sakura Winds is a series of one-shots, like cherry blossom petals on the wind. Each "chapter" will be its own story. If a one-shot is well liked and I am told about it, I_might_ change it into a story. That would require reviews asking me to or e-mails.

As all of my stories, _please review and say what you did __**AND**__ what you didn't like_.

Author's Note on Protector: Words that are underlined are supposed to be emphasized. This story is rated T since I would rather rate higher than lower.

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Protector

Tatsumi made his way out the side door, watching over his shoulder so that no one would see him. Earlier, after three straight hours of staring at the inventories and spreadsheets on his computer, he had come to the realization that he needed to escape the office. Immediately. Leaving his co-workers a note on his door saying "Do Not Disturb, Work In Progress", he had slipped out, heaving a deep sigh as his wandering walk took him into the center of a park, the wind making the cherry trees seem to exhale as well.

"Why does it always fall to me?" He wondered aloud, idly catching a falling petal in his palm. "Muraki shows up, I protect Tsuzuki and Hisoka. Tsuzuki wants to die; I protect him, Hisoka in the process. A difficult case assigned to Watari? I take care of it alone, making sure that he doesn't hear a whisper of what needed to be done. Why though? Why do I feel the need to protect them from everything?"

He stopped walking and sat down between the roots of a tree, his view of the department closed and the horizon now filled with pink and blue hues.

"Tsuzuki." he whispered, a smiling face popping up in his mind, violet eyes twinkling, sparkling. "It's so hard to watch the pain that ripples across your face. So many things get you joyous, make you smile. But so many other things can rip that away in an instant. You wallow in misery or jump in happiness, and when you're happy, it's infectious to the rest of us. When you're depressed however, it spreads faster than the plague, and I would do anything to desperately try to fix that."

Another face appeared in his memory, letting amethyst eyes fade into emerald, and short brown hair blend into short dirty blond hair.

"Hisoka, you look so young, I think that everybody here wants to protect you, in any way that they can. You appear as if you can't protect yourself, and when your empathy strikes you down, that feeling increases heavily. It's sad to see you and Tsuzuki trying to protect each other . . . almost like seeing the blind leading the blind. Neither of you can do it, but you think that you can, and it's up to me to see that you don't fall . . . or fail."

Long blonde locks replaced the short hair, and golden eyes smiled at him, sparking; the sour green disappearing.

"Watari. You're harder than the others. You've been here longer than Hisoka and you still smile, like Tsuzuki does at the height of one of his sugar rushes. The problem with you is that your power is . . . no, not weak, that's not the right word."

Here Tatsumi stopped talking, a frantic search for a proper word going on in his mind.

"Fine. Random. It's random as an attack power and it's random as a defense. You would have to pictures with you, ones that you could draw over or trace and then pull to life. And as we all know, the bad guys won't stop in battle to graciously allow you to whip out a pencil and sketchbook. Emotionally, you're one of the strongest here. Mentally, you know how to deal with what buttons will set you off, and you know how to deal with the buttons that set off your friends, to see past what they want now to what they really need. Physically . . . you need to be protected. And by the time that Tsuzuki is emotionally out of it and running wild, Hisoka will be mentally damaged and worlds away, and you. . . will be left alone to face the darkness if I'm not there, smiling all the way to a second death."

"Why?" Tatsumi cried out, eyes searching the white clouds above him. "Why does it always fall to me?" His hand clenched, fingernails drawing blood from the half-crescent wounds they created.

"Damn it! Why am I always the protector?" Tatsumi screamed, letting the fury that had been building in his heart fly. Jumping up, he blindly began punching the tree trunk in front of him, inadvertently causing cherry blossoms to collect in his hair, to rest on his shoulders. Sinking to his knees, harsh breaths issued forth, half choked by sobs, his head resting on the rough bark.

"Why can I never be the one that's protected? Yes, I know I'm stronger . . . physically, mentally and emotionally. But even strong things break if the hammer is hard enough! Rock is eaten away by raindrops, metal by water . . . my soul, each time I fail in protecting them. Every time I see one of them bleeding, broken, screaming in agony or helpless. I'll need to be protected, someday."

Tatsumi stopped, wiping blood on the tree.

"Right now, I am still protecting you, protecting your faith in me as your protector. I'm shielding all of you from my breaking dam. Even now, I am still doing my duty. How long can I continue this?!" He started to scream, "How long does my soul wither and scream by itself?! HOW LONG CAN I PROTECT THEM, AND SACRIFICE MYSELF?!?! WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO ALL OF YOU?!?!?!"

Tatsumi's voice dropped.

"Even the hard things break, shatter. And in the end . . . who would protect me, if I fall? Who could protect me?"

"Tatsumi?"

He turned, half-rising and clutching the abused tree beside him for support. Three figures in his eyes swam toward him slowly; one wearing white, another gray, and the smallest one a blue blur.

His grasp on the trunk slipped and he fell, closing his eyes and bracing for the impact, his bones ready to slam into the ground.

_Who would protect me? Who can?_


	2. A Little Lighter

**Sakura Winds: A Little Lighter**

by: JeNya

Author's Note on 'Sakura Winds' - please remember that this is a collection of one-shots, so 'A Little Lighter' has no connection to 'Protector'. _If _someone asks me, it is possible that a one-shot could become more than, well, a one-shot.

Author's Note on 'A Little Lighter' - This story is pretty Hisoka focused (strange for me), and is rated K plus only for some mild swearing. As always, reviews are great and please tell me the good, the bad **and** the ugly.

The day was perfect, to some. The horizon seemed to have gathered every nearby cloud and turn them so that they came to Meifu, land of eternal cherry blossoms. Under one of those trees sat someone small, and hunched over. His short hair was plastered to his face with the cold rain that came down from the endless clouds, and his clothes dripped more water to the ground.

"He's been out there since seven." Murmured Tsuzuki, staring out at the wet form of his partner. "I asked him what was wrong, but he just looked at me and turned away."

"Do you want me to go ask him?"

"Please. If he won't talk to me, maybe he'll talk to you."

A small silence.

"I'll see if he does."

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The scientist approached his younger co-worker, a look of worry on his face. Hisoka heard him, the glops of shoes going through mud letting him know that he had a visitor.

"I am Hisoka Kurosaki." He sated, seeming to the moisture filled air but in reality to the scientist behind him.

"I am Bon", added Hisoka, turning his gaze on Watari, "as you call me. I am an employee of Tatsumi and a partner of Tsuzuki. I am. . . me, for better or for worse."

"Why for worse?" asked Watari, taking a seat next to him on the cold and wet bench. "You seem to like it here, with us. It's not a bad thing, to do good after dying."

"I do like it here." Was a simple declaration, accompanied by a small smile. "But why am I like this? Why am I me? Shouldn't I be someone else, after my life? After my family, my father. . . hell, after Muraki? Someone who doesn't like to help, or who hates being with others?"

The scientist gave a small sigh and a slight smile.

"You're in quite a philosophical mood today Bon, asking the hard questions."

He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back against a tree.

"I don't know how we work, as humans or Shinigami. Nobody does, except Enma. And maybe even he guesses sometimes. Truth is, we are all walking, talking experiments."

Hisoka made as if to get up, but a hand touched his shoulder, stopping him.

"Hear me out," said Watari, raising his hand. "This is not 'let's experiment on all of my co-workers' Watari talking. This is 'what I think about the questions you just asked' Watari speaking."

"An experiment? We're all just around so that someone can do whatever they want to with us?" spat Hisoka. "Do you really believe that?"

"No. By experiments, I mean that each human is an unknown 'base' of chemicals. If you take the same event, the same 'experiment' and have it happen to two people of two different 'bases', they have different reactions."

"Like what?"

"Hmmm. Like twins. Genetically, if you have identical twins, they are the same. However, there has to be something different somewhere else in the body. If those two children have the same thing happen to them, there will usually be different reactions. A spanking for something done wrong might encourage one to stay away from doing bad things, but the other one might not care. Volia, the two different reactions to the same event, by two people raised the same way and with genetically alike wired bodies."

"So you're saying what makes us are our memories, our past actions and reactions."

"Yes and no. For most people, that is the bulk of what makes them. Tsuzuki, for example, is who he is because of what happened to him. He was teased and bullied as a child, and it hurts him to see it happen to anyone else. Because of his horrible past, he is kinder and nicer than anyone would think. However, I also think that there had to be something in his 'base' to counter act the bad stuff."

"Something that made him think it would be better to help someone in that position than to put someone in that position?"

Watari beamed. "Exactly Bon! You've got the idea! And who knows, if people had been nice to him, maybe it would have gone the other way. Maybe the reaction to kindness would have been superiority, or bullying."

"I doubt that. I think that he would have stayed the same." Said Hisoka hesitantly, that last idea rolling around in his brain. "That there is something in his base that keeps him kind."

"So do I, but it was always a possibility, Bon. Everything is a possibility."

"In that view then, should he be thankful for being tormented? Should I be grateful for the way my family treated me? For being the 'toy' of a demented doctor? Those are the things that made us who we are, after all."

Hisoka's head dropped, his fringe of hair coming forward to hide his eyes, and the tears that were forming in them.

"No!" shouted Watari, jumping up and startling the boy.

"No, Hisoka. . . just because something helped make you who you are, there is no need to be thankful for rotten things. What happened to you because of your family was not a good thing, and Muraki rates much higher than that. Never be glad that that stuff happened to you."

Green eyes stared at gold, and Watari felt a pain in his heart that his co-worker had even thought about Muraki as a 'good' thing.

"Honestly, just be happy that your 'base' chemicals canceled out most of the harmful effects. That's all that any of us should want from life, the ability to roll with the punches."

"I guess. . . I handled it well."

"Well, you certainly didn't become Muraki Jr."

"But what about you? You had no memories, you had to start again from scratch. How are you still Watari? How could you ever know if there was a differnece? Why are you a happy person when all you remember are things related to death?"

"And that," answered Watari, stretching, "is when we head out of the rain and into my lab for some hot tea, along with slices of life discussions. Interested, Bon?"

Hisoka suddenly realized that he and Watari were soaking wet, as if earlier it hadn't mattered enough to penetrate his conciseness. It did matter, though. And right now he felt lighter than ever before, less angry than he had ever been.

"Bon?"

He got up, the area where he'd been sitting suddenly exposed to the downpour, the light gray concrete turning to dark with every splatter of rain that touched.


End file.
